


Pains

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Humor, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2004-06-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls take revenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Voldemort's lips curled up into an evil, mirthless smile as he raised his wand once more, waving the stick of yew teasingly in front of Hermione's tearstained face. She sniffled miserably and curled up into the tightest ball she could, hugging her knees to her stomach protectively.

"Don't," she whispered. She was too proud to **really** beg, but the pain was so intense she couldn't help a small plea for mercy.

Of course, it went unheeded as all the others had.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord hissed. Hermione gasped as the indescribable pain washed over her body, filling every pore to the brim and then overflowing, spilling over her skin... then settling in her lower abdomen with a dull, burning ache.

"Please," she whispered.

Voldemort raised one thread-thin eyebrow, apparently pleased she'd cracked, then whispered one more incantation under his breath.

The walls ran with blood, staining the pale grey stone crimson. It flowed, collecting on the ground, and Hermione screamed and screamed as the flood rushed towards her like a breaking wave, soaking her clothes and her hair and...

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, then moaned softly and fell back against the pillows, clutching her stomach. It had been a dream, but the nightmare was just starting.

She was on her period.

The velvet drapes flew open suddenly, and Lavender and Parvati stared down at Hermione with large, worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" Parvati asked anxiously.

Hermione scowled. "Fuck off!"

The other girls exchanged a glance. "I see," Lavender said. She actually looked **pleased**. "You're on, right? I predicted it last month, don't you remember, Parv? Didn't I say, 'I see twenty-eight days before a permed lion bares its large teeth and bleeds'?"

"Lavender," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Which part of fuck off do you not understand?"

"But Herm, it's you!" Lavender said happily. "Permed lion!" She toyed briefly with a strand of Hermione's messy, curly hair and was rewarded with a slap to the hand. "Well, sort of. Curly-haired Gryffindor. Right? Am I right? Professor Trelawney will be so pleased! I even got the date right!"

"Of course you bloody did, you brainless excuse for a witch!" Hermione screamed. "It doesn't take a bloody genius to work it out! You knew that day was the first bloody day of my bloody bleeding for that month! Now, fuck **off**!"

They fucked off.

Hermione got out of bed slowly and hobbled to the bathroom to clean herself up, then tried very hard not to look at the bloodstained sheets when she went back into the dormitory to dress -- in black jeans, of course, just to be on the safe side.

Grimacing, Hermione went out the door and looked at the stairs in abject horror. She was having trouble navigating her way across a flat surface -- how would she ever manage sixteen **steps**? Every movement stabbed red-hot pokers into her abdomen, and the words, "Ow, ow, bugger, ow," become something of a mantra as she winced down into the common room.

Harry, reading a Quidditch magazine beside the fire, looked up and smiled at his best friend. "Morning!" he said cheerily. "Sleep well?"

"Shut the hell up!" she snapped.

A look of dawning realisation spread over Harry's face, and he cringed. _Bloody hell, not again,_ he thought to himself. "Oh, right," he said cautiously. "Sorry, I forgot this was your... girl's week."

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked. She staggered over to the fire, clutching herself. "I want Ginny, I need hugs."

"She's already gone to breakfast with Ron," Harry said, then jumped up in surprise when Hermione burst into tears.

"No one loves me."

"Oh, Hermione..." He hugged her quickly. "Course we love you. Here, sit down. How are you feeling?"

"I want to die," Hermione wailed as she collapsed into an overstuffed armchair. Bending at the waist just scrunched her insides up more, so she slid bonelessly down onto the floor and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling and ignoring the inquisitive glances from the few people left in the common room.

"It can't be **that** bad," Harry said sceptically, tucking a cushion under her head.

Hermione fixed him with her most evil-looking Death Stare(tm), and he flinched. "Harry, do you know what's happening to me?" she asked icily.

_Yes,_ he thought, _seeing as you describe it to me in vivid detail every single month._ "Um, I know the basics, yes."

"Let me clarify it for you."

Harry winced again and tried to edge away, but another Death Stare(tm) seemed to glue him to the carpet, and he stayed put. _Humour her,_ said his brain. _That way you'll still be alive tomorrow. Just smile and nod, Harry. Smile and nod..._

"The lining of my uterus is ripping away from the walls, and my body is ejecting it along with an egg that my distinct lack of anything resembling a normal heterosexual sex life has made certain is unfertilised."

"But you're not heterosexual anyway, Hermione..."

She ignored him. "The process is intensely painful in a way you bastard males will never understand. On top of that, it's bloody disgusting, please excuse the pun, my back aches like I've been trodden into the ground by a herd of stampeding Erumpents, I'm swollen and bloated everywhere, my boobs are the size of Quaffles, don't leer at me, I'm in a piss-poor mood and I'm running out of Tampax."

"Um, I feel for you, really, I do."

"Don't patronise me, Potter! Do you know what it feels like to be eleven and a half months pregnant with a burning hot **cheese grater** that scrubs the inside of your womb every time you move?"

_What?!_ "Um, no, Hermione, because I don't actually **have** a womb."

She eyed him triumphantly. "Which is precisely the reason I don't want to talk to you right now! Go on..." She started to make feeble shooing gestures with her hand "...run along, little boy. Don't bother yourself with women's troubles. We only bear your children and have a really crap time raising the little sods while you lot run around and stay BLOODY SIXTEEN YEARS OLD FOR THE REST OF YOUR SHODDY LIVES!"

Harry ran out of the common room, and sped down to the Great Hall to spread the word.

"Ode-cay ed-ray on the irl's-gay eek-way," he muttered to Ron, as he slipped into the seat beside him. "Keep away from Hermione if you want to see your eighteenth birthdays. Pass it on."

Ron informed Neville -- the other Gryffindor boys weren't down yet -- and they sank down in their seats in utter despair. PMS-ing Hermione was bad enough, but snappy moods coupled with what they were sure were faked pains just got tedious after a while. There was only so much sympathy they felt like handing out, especially for something as trivial as this.

"So you got the brunt of it this month, eh?" Ron asked, grinning. Harry nodded wearily. "It's about bloody time! It's been me the last three months, Neville two before that, me **again**... you've not had it for about a year, mate."

"Lucky me."

"What's she doing, then?" Neville asked. "When it was me, all I did was go into the common room and ask if anyone'd seen Trevor, and she started screaming and said she'd AK him if he came anywhere near her!"

Harry laughed. "No, it's not quite as bad as that. She's flat on her back on the common carpet, ignoring the fact it was Eve who got women into all this trouble in the first place, and generally being a grade-A lesbian."

Ginny, who'd missed most of the previous remarks because she was chatting to her friend on the Ravenclaw table behind her, caught the lesbian comment and bristled. "Hey!" she said angrily. "You're not setting into Hermione again, are you?"

Harry blushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, you know I love her. But she's being the very **worst** sort of feminist, the sort who resents men because we don't get the... you know, curse."

Ginny dropped her butter knife to her plate with a loud clatter and glared at Harry. "You're such a git sometimes, you know that?"

She hurried out of the Hall, and Harry looked at Ron blankly. "Was it something I said?"

~+~

Meanwhile, on the Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbott was being comforted by her best friend Justin.

"...And, and, and he's being so **mean** ," she wailed. Justin put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Come on, Hannah, love, don't cry," he said soothingly. "I'm sure it was just innocent fun."

"No it wasn't!" she sniffled. "He was being **crude** on purpose, and unfeeling, and just **horrible**."

"Who was?" Susan Bones asked.

"Ernie," Hannah sobbed. "He had his steak all rare and bloody last night, and he kept poking it with his fork and... and **leering** , and saying that's how he likes it."

"So?" Susan said, thoroughly confused. "Your boyfriend likes rare steak. So do I."

"No, it was a... a wotsit. A metaphor. He keeps trying to make me," she lowered her voice to barely more than a breath, " **have sex** with him when I'm, you know, on my period. And I try to tell him I don't want to, but..."

"Well, you know Macmillans," Justin said. He sounded incredibly smug and rather mysterious. "They have weird fetishes."

"How do you know?" Hannah asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Where **is** Ernie, anyway?" Justin asked, scanning the Hall. "We'd decided to tell you this morning..."

Hannah's voice was icy. "Tell me what?"

"Um, I'd rather wait for Ernie."

Hannah whipped out her wand and held it under Justin's chin. "I'm not very good with curses, which is all the more reason to tell me now rather than having to sit and wait for the effects of my mistakes to wear off," she said. "Tell me. Now."

"Okay, okay!" Justin said hurriedly. "Right. We never wanted to hurt you, sweetie, but... well, Ernie's sick of your mood-swings. It's all for the best really..." Hannah rammed her wand into the soft patch of skin at the base of his throat, and he gulped. "Well," he said again, "he's leaving you. We're in love. So, like I said, it's all for the best. He won't pester you for sex any more so you'll be happy. He'll pester **me** for sex so **I'll** be happy. And he'll be **getting** sex, so **he'll** be happy. And, um, I hope this doesn't change anything. I hope we can all still be friends. Um. See you later." He jumped up and rushed out of the room, blushing as everyone stared at him after Hannah's wails suddenly became deafening.

~+~

_Bloody men,_ Ginny thought to herself furiously. _Bloody, bloody... or rather, NOT bloody, which is the whole damn problem._ She gave the password and stomped into the Gryffindor common room, glowering at Colin when he said hello. Vendettas against males were ridiculous, of course -- girls had lots of things that made up for period pains, like the fact they could wear trousers **or** skirts without looking foolish, and the way they could cry at sentimental old novels without the prospect of a sound beating from their mates hanging over their heads, and of course the two little words 'multiple' and 'orgasms' -- but the boys made it so flipping hard sometimes. They had **no idea**. No idea at all. Tease The Menstruating Girls was a schoolwide game, it seemed.

Ginny found her girlfriend lying on the floor trying to cast Pain-Relieving Charms on herself.

"Good morning," she said quietly.

"No it's not!" Hermione said. She was very close to tears as she threw her wand across the room in frustration. "It's a fucking terrible morning! And pain makes me stupid, I can't get these charms right."

Ginny took her hands and tugged gently. "Come on, get up."

"Kill me," Hermione begged, snatching her hands back and holding her tummy.

"No, Ginny said sternly. It was a monthly argument they had... in fact, a fortnightly argument -- Ginny's time came exactly two weeks after Hermione's, and she got awful pains as well.

"You're pro-euthanasia, right?" Hermione wheedled. "I need it. Euthanasia-ise me, **please**!"

"No," Ginny said again, firmly. "Get up."

Hermione stood up reluctantly. "If you loved me you'd do it."

"If **you** loved **me** , you'd stop behaving like such an infant!" Ginny countered, then she felt guilty for sounding so harsh when Hermione burst into tears. "Hey!" she said, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. D'you know what you need?"

Hermione's answer was muffled against her neck. "Poison."

"Bed."

She peeked up, sniffling back her tears. "Sex?" she asked hopefully.

"No! Come with me."

"I can't walk!" Hermione wailed. "I'm dying! I'm falling apart from the inside! I have leprosy, I have bubonic plague, I have scurvy! Ginn, it huuuurts!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, and muttered, "Mobilicorpus," levitating Hermione upstairs and into her dormitory. She deposited her back in bed, fluffing up her pillows and smoothing her blankets down like a fussy mother, then disappeared to her own dorm for a moment. When she returned, she was holding a hot-water bottle with a furry cover. She sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, and held it up.

Hermione looked deeply mistrustful. "Okay," she said slowly. "I love you and everything, but you have really awful taste in... whatever that thing is."

"Hey!" Ginny objected, looking at its face fondly. "I **like** him!"

"Who's it supposed to be, John Merrick?"

"Godric Gryffindor," Ginny replied coldly. Hermione burst into peals of laughter, and Ginny stood up. "Glad you're suddenly feeling better," she said sarcastically. "I'll put my hot-water bottle back where he's appreciated."

Gasping for breath, Hermione grabbed onto Ginny's wrist. "I'm sorry... and I don't feel better physically, but... **Gryffindor**? You have a furry, Godric Gryffindor-shaped hot-water bottle cover?"

"D'you want my help or not?" Ginny asked icily. "Because if not, I'd be quite happy to leave you here, lonely and bored and in pain, while I go off to Hogsmeade and waste my Saturday having a fab time in the pub." At that, Hermione suddenly sobered.

"I'm sorry, really. I think it's sweet. Slightly over-patriotic... but sweet."

"All right," Ginny said. "Strip."

"I'm really not in the mood, Ginn..."

"Not for sex, Miss One-Track-Mind! It's just that this'll work better when you don't have so many layers of clothes between it and you."

"Oh..." Hermione unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it to the floor, then paused.

"Uh-uh," Ginny admonished. "Jeans too."

"But I'm wearing my... period pants."

"I've seen you naked, honey. A pair of granny knickers won't make me run a mile."

"All ri..." Hermione started, then interrupted herself. "Hey! Do you mean you'd rather see me in huge knickers than in none at all?"

"Stop taking everything so personally, and get your damn trousers off!"

"Okay, okay..." Hermione grumbled. Her jeans joined her shirt, leaving her lying in bed in her bra and aforementioned 'period pants' -- large, comfortable, faded-blue knickers. She noticed Ginny trying to keep a straight face, and hurriedly pulled the covers to her waist. Ginny dragged them down insistently, and put the hot-water bottle on Hermione's abdomen.

"How's that, hon?" she asked tenderly.

"Oh. Um, good."

"You're Muggle-born, how did you **not** think of the simplest remedy?" Ginny enquired.

"I wouldn't call it a remedy," Hermione said, fidgeting about in bed to try and get more comfortable. "It's more like slight relief." She suddenly realised something. "And, uh, I really don't feel comfortable lying here in my underwear with Godric Gryffindor's face in my crotch..."

Ginny turned the hot-water bottle the other way up. "Sorry!"

~+~

After breakfast, Harry and Ron mooched about in the Entrance Hall for a while, hands in pockets, looking bored and restless until they saw Justin Finch-Fletchley come out of the Hall hand-in-hand with Ernie Macmillan.

"Hello, what's this?" Ron said to Harry, perking up suddenly. "Oi! Lads! C'mon over here."

Justin minced over, hands dangling on wrists that were suddenly **very** limp and weak-looking. His current post as his house's Quidditch star suddenly looked rather shaky. Strong wrists were imperative to a Seeker, what with all the exotic spins and twists they often had to execute, moves that sent less able players plummeting to the grass below.

"Gripping a different sort of broomstick now, are you, Jus?" Harry grinned. "Bringing new meaning to the word HufflePUFF?"

Justin laughed. "That I am, Harry dear."

"Thought you were banging Hot Hannah?" Ron said to Ernie. "You're mad to give **her** up, mate."

"Nah," Ernie said, waving a dismissive hand on a wrist as floppy as Justin's. He got in close to Harry and Ron and said in a loud stage-whisper, "36D boobs are nice enough, but they don't make up for awful stroppy fits of PMS. Besides, she was frigid."

Hannah ran past crying, followed by her female friends. Susan glared at the boys as though she thought they deserved a good dose of the Cruciatus curse.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and burst out laughing. "It shouldn't be funny," Harry chortled, "but it is!"

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "Blond-haired, blue-eyed, big-boobed, not all that bright... what else does she think she was put on this planet for other than sex? Dumb blonde. Go ask if there's a waitress job going at the Three Brooms!" he hollered down the corridor. The other three cracked up laughing at Ron's manly show of bravado.

"Well... we're going to Hogsmeade," Justin said. "See you later." He and Ernie pranced out the front door.

"What d'you want to do now, then?" Ron asked.

Harry groaned and rubbed his face, collapsing on the bottom step. "I can't face homework this early on a Saturday morning. Um... there's always Quidditch practice?"

Ron shook his head. "Too energetic... anyway, the Slythies have bagged the pitch. Can't we just go and poke fun at our prostrated best friend?"

"That's not very nice!" Harry said, sounding affronted.

Ron paused. "Well?"

Harry's face broke into a wide grin, and Ron slapped him a high-five.

"Race you!" they yelled together. They dashed up to Gryffindor Tower, and fell into the common room in a tangled mess of limbs and giggles. There was no one else there except the Creevey brothers, Seamus and Dean.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked breathlessly, disentangling himself from Harry.

"Upstairs with Ginny," Seamus said. _He has the seediest grin I've ever seen,_ Harry thought. _I bet I know what's coming next._ "We think they're shagging."

_Yup, I was right,_ Harry thought, as Colin and Dennis chuckled in unison.

"We're going to spy in a minute," Dean confided. "You coming?"

Ron pulled a disgusted face. "First of all, why in god's name would I want to spy on my little sister and her girlfriend?"

"Well, we don't know what floats your boat, Ron..."

Ron paused to give Dean a nasty look, then added, "And secondly, they're not shagging."

"How do you know?" Dennis asked.

"I... don't think Ginny's into the vampirism thing," Harry said carefully.

Colin looked puzzled. "Eh?"

Slowly beginning to catch on, Seamus said, "I think it's a euphemism, Creevey."

"What the hell's a yoofy museum?" Dennis asked, in pure bewilderment.

"A polite way of saying something, " Dean explained. "Like, calling the crapper a little girls' room instead of a crapper. Or saying Millicent Bulstrode is 'somewhat sturdy' instead of 'wide and square as the back end of a bus, and thrice as ugly'."

"So..." Colin tried. "Saying Ginny's not a vampire is a yoofy museum?"

"They're not having sex, because Hermione's... under the weather," Harry explained slowly.

"Is **that** a yoofy museum?" Dennis asked.

"She's surfing the crimson wave," Ron tried. He looked at Harry for help.

"She's on the rag."

"She's got the painters in."

"She's got the curse."

Colin's eyes widened. "Was it Malfoy? But you'll get him, right, Harry? You'll get him for cursing your best friend, right?"

Seamus and Dean were practically in hysterics by this point, but Seamus managed to contain himself enough to say, "I think it's time to stop the euphemisms and just say it, guys."

Harry and Ron exchanged an embarrassed glance, then said at the same time, "Okay, you say it. No, **you** say it! I'm not saying it!"

They paused.

"She's **your** sister," Harry insisted.

"Yeah, but my sister's not the one with internal haemorrhaging, is she? I'm having nothing to do with it."

Harry took a deep breath, and said, "Hermione's on her period."

"Oh!" the Creeveys said as it finally clicked. "Why didn't you say so?" Dennis added.

"And we're going up to point and laugh at her," Ron finished. "You coming?"

"That's not very nice!" Dean cried.

Ron grinned at Harry. "Wait for it..."

"Race you!" Seamus bellowed, and the boys zipped towards the stairs like greased lightening.

~+~

Ginny held the furry Gryffindor on Hermione's abdomen, and Hermione slid her hands over the top of Ginny's. The pain was actually dissipating, to her immense surprise.

"I love you," she whispered. Ginny smiled, and entwined their fingers.

"Love you too."

"I want you."

That got a small laugh. "You're always horny when we can't get up to anything, aren't you?"

Hermione grinned back. "Can't help it. And I'm horny around you **all** the time." She held her arms up, and Ginny obliged her with a kiss that had just started to get interesting when they heard the sound of feet clattering on the steps. The door banged open, and the girls flew apart, scowling, as the boys (sans Ron) began whooping and cheering.

"What the hell do you want?" Ginny asked. "I'm trying to tend to an invalid here!"

The boys looked at one another and chuckled. "I've got a pain here, Ginn," Dean said, mock-wincing as he took a few steps forwards and gestured to his trouser area. "Will you tend to me too?"

"Pig," she muttered, throwing a cushion at him.

"Do we need a reason to visit our best friends?" Harry asked innocently.

"No, really," Hermione said sceptically. "What d'you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," Ron said casually. "Just to say..." He suddenly leaped up onto Lavender's bed, swinging around the bedpost "...Haha! Haha! La-la-la! We're fine, you're not, har-de-har!" He began dancing, Gene Kelly-style, all over the bedroom. The boys seemed to think Ron's behaviour was the highest form of comedy, and they all cracked up laughing. Harry flopped down on Parvati's bed in helpless giggles, the Creeveys joined Ron in a spirited dance of male superiority, and Seamus and Dean grabbed onto each other to keep from collapsing in their hysterics. Hermione and Ginny were, needless to say, somewhat less than amused.

Nearly sobbing again, Hermione cried, "You have no idea, do you?"

"Nope!" Ron said cheerfully. "And it's gonna stay that way, because we're MALE! Ha!"

"I hate you Ron!" Ginny yelled. She jumped up, clenching her fists, and glared at her brother. "In alphabetical order, I abhor, despise, detest, dislike, hate and loathe you. You're disgusting and evil and insufferable, and I'm telling Mum!"

Ron ended his dance abruptly, and held his hands up in submission. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay! I just don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die."

Hermione burst into tears, and Ginny hurried back to the bed and hugged her. "Now look what you've done!" she said accusingly.

Seamus sat on the other side of the bed and touched Hermione's shoulder gently. "C'mon, Hermione. You can stop the act, we're all good friends here, right? You can admit it to us."

"Admit what?" Hermione wailed.

Dean joined his friend. "That you women just fake all this agony to get flowers and chocolate."

With sounds like two whips cracking, Hermione and Ginny slapped the boys across the cheeks.

"Bastards!" Hermione screamed. "Gits! Sods! I hate you! I'm going to kill you!" She started to get out of bed, then remembered she only had on her underwear. "Later. You'll be sorry, you... you... you... I don't know what you are, but I hate you and I'm going to put you in as much pain as I am!"

Harry sniggered derisively. "Yeah, right. We're really scared. Ooooooh! Hermione's going to put us in this non-existent pain! Oooh!"

"You prat," Ginny said. "You asked for it."

"Consider war declared," Hermione said in an ominous voice.

The boys exchanged a glance. "You're on."

~+~

"For Salazar's sake, Parkinson!" Draco bellowed. " **Hit** the bloody Bludger, woman!"

"Don't you 'Parkinson' me, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy screamed. She brought her broom to an abrupt halt, then hit a passing Bludger as hard as she could towards her boyfriend. "There! How's that, you sodding sod?"

Draco dodged and fell off his broom, dangling from it by the crook of one knee. He managed to get himself back on top (not helped by another few Bludger attacks from his irate girlfriend), then cast a Freezing Charm on the Bludgers. They stopped in mid-air, then fell heavily to the ground.

"What is the matter with you?" he hissed, fully aware that the rest of the Slytherin team, plus a couple of spectators who'd turned up to watch the practice, had witnessed his most unglamorous fall.

"I'll tell you what the fucking matter is!" Pansy yelled. "I try to tell you that mounting a decidedly phallic piece of equipment and taking part in strenuous physical activity is **not** something I feel up to doing in my present state, but do you listen to me? No you do not!"

"Come off it, you lazy cow!" Draco yelled. Pansy gasped in outrage and flung her club at him, missing by a good few feet because she was so furious. "There's nothing wrong with you, you just can't be bothered."

"You know what I can't be bothered with, Draco Winston Aristotle Malfoy?" she said loudly and clearly. Everyone began sniggering, some not even bothering to hide it with false coughs and sneezes. Draco's middle names had been an area of great speculation over the years but he'd never told anyone (except for Pansy, apparently). Now his secret was out, they could see why.

Draco's face turned purple. "Bitch!" he hollered, and flew his broom directly at her.

"Impedimenta!" she shouted, and he slowed until they could barely see him moving. "I can't be bothered with your crap any more! You're a heartless, unfeeling, sexist tosser. And," she added, with a triumphant look in her eye, "you're shite in bed. Neither you nor your miniscule widger ever gave me an orgasm, ever. I faked it every single time so you'd get out of my bed and I could go and fuck Padma Patil. So there."

She flew over and turned his broom so it pointed towards the castle wall, about fifty feet away. "No one take the spell off him," she ordered the gobsmacked spectators. "Let the wanker crash."

And with that, Pansy Jane Parkinson, who had always been rather quiet and unassuming by Slytherin standards and had **certainly** never said a word against the boy to whom she'd been betrothed half an hour after birth, kicked her ex-boyfriend in the face and flew to the shower rooms to change her tampon.

~+~

After finally resorting to threats of Avada Kedavra to get rid of the boys, Hermione's pain worsened from all the shouting and stress, and Ginny took her down to the hospital wing for painkillers. She'd have done so earlier, but the potion was too strong to be taken more than once a day and most girls only turned to it as a last resort.

"Just drink that down," came Madam Pomfrey's voice, floating quiet and ghost-like out of the open door to the ward. Hermione, still clutching her stomach with one hand as if it was a suitcase full of Galleons, and Ginny's arm with the other, poked her head around the door.

The first thing they saw was Blaise Zabini fawning over Draco Malfoy, who had a bloody nose and looked absolutely furious. They had a good giggle at his expense, then turned their attention to the other side of the room, where they were surprised to find Professor McGonagall sitting on one of the pristine beds, meekly drinking a cup of potion like a first year with a touch of flu.

"Can I help you, girls?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Tearing their eyes away from the pained expression on the deputy headteacher's face, they explained.

"What did you say?" McGonagall asked weakly.

"I'm having terrible cramps and the boys think it's funny," Hermione repeated.

McGonagall's nostrils flared slightly, and her eyes narrowed. "The evil little gits," she breathed. Ginny's jaw dropped. "The evil, dirty, foul, sodding **vile** little bastards!"

Hermione's jaw dropped too. Madam Pomfrey just sniffed disapprovingly.

"Drink some more, Minerva, there's a good girl."

McGonagall knocked back the rest of the potion and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"Ah, that's a bit better," she said. She managed a tight smile. "As you might have noticed, Miss Granger, I'm in the same situation as you. I apologise for my language, but..." Her voice trailed off.

"Can I have some of that?" Hermione asked. The nurse handed over some potion, and Hermione gulped it down. Blessed relief washed over her body, and she sat on the edge of the bed beside her head of house. "Excuse me for being rude, Professor," she said tentatively, "but aren't you a little... old... for, uh, menstruation?"

McGonagall looked indignant. "As witches and wizards tend to live for somewhere between a hundred and fifty and two hundred years, seventy is certainly not old." Hermione flinched; she wasn't used to being on the receiving end of McGonagall's sharp tongue.

"Sorry," she said humbly.

"Professor?" Ginny said.

"Yes, Virginia?"

"Why did you get so... vocal? About the boys being, um, dirty bastards?"

McGonagall's mouth twitched. "I'll forgive such language under the circumstances." The girls grinned. "It's rather a long story, and one that would probably be better suited to my office, if you'd like to hear it?"

Hermione shrugged and nodded, and moments later they were stepping out of the fireplace in McGonagall's office. It was a circular room, taking up the entire first floor of a turret adjacent to Gryffindor Tower, and furnished beautifully with books everywhere, fresh flowers, and lovely paintings.

"Please, take a seat," McGonagall said, shifting some old newspapers off her sofa. Hermione and Ginny sat down, and McGonagall Accioed some comfort food (pumpkin juice and chocolate. Wonderful, yummy, problem-solving chocolate) from somewhere. They all tucked in as she explained her rather uncharacteristic reaction to the news.

"You may not know this, but Professor Flitwick was in my year at school. We were very good friends, like you two are with Harry and Ron, but, similarly, Filius thought, uh, female troubles were a cause for celebration. He thought it made him a better person because he didn't have to go through it."

_No way,_ Hermione thought in shock. A glance at Ginny attested she was thinking the exact same thing.

"We both became teachers in the same year," McGonagall continued, "after four years at the same university. So, every single darned month since I was thirteen, I've had to put up with his squeaky little insults and giggles and the Flitwick Dance Of Male Superiority."

"Do they all do that dance thing?" Ginny muttered.

"Yes," McGonagall said shortly. Her eyes had taken on a darkness, and she looked sort of scary. Her lips had disappeared into a thin line, and her brows were tightly scowling. "All of them. I mean, **all** of them. Hagrid thinks it's a wonderful joke. You'd think dear Professor Lupin would be sympathetic, wouldn't you? But no, he thinks it's funny too. I didn't expect much else from Sirius, to be honest, but when **Professor Dumbledore** starts poking fun at me..." She broke off again, looking murderous. "And don't get me started on Severus."

_Severus?_ Hermione mouthed, looking horrified. "Snape?" she said out loud. "Snape makes fun of your period cramps?"

McGonagall adopted an eerily accurate impression of Snape's mellifluous voice. "Dear me, Minerva... shirking your duties again, are you? I do hope it's nothing serious. Oh, menstruation, is it? I expected as much. Shirk, shirk, shirk, layabout, lounge around, have a good time, why don't you?"

"He says that?" Ginny whispered incredulously. McGonagall seemed not to have heard.

"Of course, I could brew you up some pain relief potion... but it's too precious to waste on psychosomatic drivel."

"Professor?" Hermione tried. McGonagall's eyes were wild.

"It's wonderful to be a man!" she yelled, still as Snape. "You women are pathetic sometimes... one twinge of discomfort, and you're in bed for days bemoaning your fate and shaking your fists at the gods! He goes on and on and on, he never gives me a moment's peace, he thinks I'm making it up, and I DESPISE HIM!" she screamed.

Hermione and Ginny edged as far away from their teacher as they could, but thankfully her hysterics were over.

"Would you like a... drink of water, Professor?" Hermione asked carefully, but McGonagall just shook her head.

"How about revenge?" Ginny said suddenly. The other two looked at her. "We were planning to get back at the boys somehow anyway," Ginny explained, "but now we know that **all** the men in school behave like that... with your help, Professor, we could make sure they'll never joke about or hurl insults at us ever again."

McGonagall stared off into space, and a dazed smile spread over her face. "That sounds wonderful."

"What about the other female teachers?" Hermione asked. "We should get them to help too."

McGonagall jumped up. "Then let's go!"

They hurried down the stairs and into the main part of the castle. Nearing the Defence classroom, they heard voices and hid round a corner.

~+~

"Severus!" Sirius yelled, jovially thumping the potions teacher on the back. "How's it hanging, mate?"

Severus glared. "Black, I am not your mate. That dubious honour goes to Lupin, does it not?"

Sirius ignored him. "C'mon, Sev! It's Saturday! Get the broomstick out of your arse, and come and have a drink with us!"

Taciturnly, "No."

Sirius smiled evilly, and leaned in close to whisper, "Hagrid tells me Rosmerta's on the rag... up for a bit of moody woman-baiting?"

"Oh!" Severus said, cracking a smile. "That changes everything." He slapped Sirius' back heartily. "All right, mate, let's go!"

In the years since Dumbledore had forced civility upon them, Sirius and Severus had come to terms with the fact that hating each other was futile. They actually had a hell of a lot in common, and although Severus often tried to deny it, everyone knew it. Sirius didn't care that his friend was miserable a lot of the time -- he had a cracking sense of humour when the mood took him... and besides, an always-cheerful Severus wouldn't have been the real Severus. His grumpiness was refreshing after trying to keep up with a castle full of chirpy teens.

"All right, Sev?" Remus said, falling into step with them as he came out of the Defence classroom. "Finally decided we're worthy of your presence?"

"Not at all. I'm going to the pub for Rosmerta, not for you."

"Oho!" Remus sounded delighted. "Sev's discovered girls!! The broomstick is **out** of his arse!"

"I'm not even going to ask where this obsession with long hard things up my arse has come from," Severus said. Sirius and Remus crowed and giggled like drunks, making crude gestures. "And I'm not going for Rosmerta... it's That Time Of The Month for her, Sirius and I thought she deserved a bit of ridicule."

Remus shook his hand solemnly. "A worthy cause, my friend."

Peeking around the corner like heads on a totem pole, McGonagall, Hermione and Ginny bit their lips to keep back a furious tirade of curses. They waited for the men to disappear into the blackness of the long corridor.

"That's it," Hermione declared. "Forget war -- this is Armageddon! Ginny, you amass the troops from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. I'll take the Slythies and Ravenclaws. Professor, would you get the female teachers? We need to hit the library, and hit it hard!"

~+~

Before long, all the females in Hogwarts started trickling into the library. Madam Pince looked apoplectic until the situation was explained to her; when she knew what was going on, she sat down in a chair to await instruction. Even the house elves turned up.

"Winky?" Ginny said in astonishment. Winky kept her face turned to the floor, and kept twisting her fingers together anxiously.

"I is hearing about Miss Wheezy's and Miss Hermione's plan and I is wanting to help," she said very quickly, as if she didn't really want to say it at all. Ginny and Hermione glanced at each other and smiled.

Hermione leaned down and asked kindly, "Does Dobby make fun of you too?" Winky just nodded, and Hermione touched her arm comfortingly before Winky scurried away to dust some shelves with the other elves. They got nervous when they had nothing to do.

"Granger, what the hell are we doing here?" Pansy Parkinson asked suddenly. Hermione ushered the last couple of Ravenclaw fifth years in, ticking their names off the list and closing the doors behind them.

"Right," she said abruptly. "I'll start with a few questions. Who gets horrible menstrual pains?" About three quarters of the girls raised their hands. "And who gets ridiculed by the boys during that time of the month?" This time, just about every hand in the room shot straight up in the air. Hermione smiled evilly. "Thought so. Now, the real reason I called you all together. Who wants revenge for every time a boy has accused you of playing up the intensity of your suffering?"

There was silence. Eventually, it was broken by a single whooping cheer.

"Granger, I never thought I'd say this," called Pansy, "but you are my new idol. Count me in!" Moments later everyone else followed, clapping and shouting out ideas.

Ginny shot red sparks and loud bangs from her wand until there was silence again. "Great! Now, what we need to do is search for a curse, hex, jinx, charm or potion that will either give boys the sensation of menstruation, or even better, actual menstruation. Pain **and** bleeding, instead of just pain."

"Prefects, search the Restricted Section!" McGonagall ordered. "Everyone else, you know where the shelves are. Move!"

The crowd of girls dispersed, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. All house rivalry was forgotten for the time being. Only one thing mattered now, and that was revenge.

Hermione grabbed a stack of ancient curse books and, groaning under their weight, dumped them on a table. She dug a quill and some parchment out of her satchel and began leafing through the pages of the books, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell and sneezing every so often if her movement dislodged some dust.

Two hours later she stood up and arched her back, sighing in bliss at the machine-gun rattle of her cracking spine. "Anything?" she asked Ginny and McGonagall, who were working on the table next to hers.

"No," they said in unison. Hermione went to check with everyone else. They'd found a surprising number of curses to cause pain, some of them almost as nasty as Cruciatus but not illegal because they were so old or obscure, but nothing seemed right. Hermione would only resort to pain curses if she'd perused every book in the library cover to cover and had found nothing. _This is more than pain,_ she thought. _It's the whole damn principle of the thing!_

Hermione didn't bother asking Millicent Bulstrode whether she'd found anything relevant -- firstly, Bulstrode was the female equivalent of Crabbe and Goyle and Hermione didn't really know whether she could read or not, and secondly... secondly, Hermione wasn't sure she was entirely **female** at all. She cast a distasteful look at Bulstrode, who was holding her book upside down, and moved on.

"Anything, Parkinson?"

"Nothing yet, Granger. We'll get there eventually."

Hermione smiled. "All right. Thanks for your help on this, by the way."

Pansy grinned back. "This doesn't mean I like you. It's just that some things are more important than Slytherin superiority."

"Glad you finally worked that one out. Call me if you find anything."

"Will do."

Hermione headed towards Padma Patil's little gang of Ravenclaws, but turned back hurriedly when she heard Pansy call out, "Granger! Come here, quick! Is this any good?"

She ran back, and read the page Pansy was pointing at. "Any good? This is **perfect**." The girls grinned at each other. "You want to join the inner circle?"

Pansy's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yeah!"

"C'mon then."

Hermione and Pansy hurried over to McGonagall and Ginny and dumped the book on the table. Holding a finger up to indicate she'd explain in a minute, Hermione climbed onto a chair and cast Sonorus, then shouted for silence.

"We think we've found something relevant. You can go back to what you were doing, the meeting's over. We'll notify you if we make progress." To McGonagall, she added quietly, "Let's go to your office for a bit of privacy."

McGonagall nodded, and she and the girls were soon settled around a large table in her private room, often used for important conferences. Of course, none had been quite as important as **this** one.

"Well?" she prompted impatiently, fidgeting with excitement.

Pansy opened the book. As she flipped through the pages, she said, "It's amazing. Some witches -- Hogwarts students -- wrote it back in the sixteenth century. Seems as though they were in the same situation as us and it got too much for them. Here." She found the page and the other three crowded in. Their smiles widened as they read on. By the time they got to the end of the two pages, the top of their heads were in danger of falling off because they were grinning so widely.

"Parkinson, I could kiss you," Ginny said, beaming at her erstwhile enemy. She shot an apologetic glance at Hermione, who shrugged.

"It's okay, it doesn't bother me. I feel like kissing her myself."

"Don't say stuff like that, I might hold you to it," Pansy said. She smirked in a very Malfoyish manner, then they all burst out laughing.

"Miss Parkinson, even **I** co--"

"Well!" Pansy said brightly, interrupting McGonagall hurriedly before she could finish the sentence. "Let's get started, shall we?"

~+~

"Why, you...!"

Rosmerta was too furious to finish her insult, so she resorted to the time-honoured throw-a-drink-in-the-man's-face trick. Sirius barely blinked; he just carried on grinning that infuriatingly charming smile. Remus and Severus choked on their giggles.

"Come on, Rosie, you know you love me," he said, leaning casually on the bar and letting the Gillywater drip off his chin all over the polished wood.

" **Love** you?" Rosmerta said furiously. "If we were the last two people on Earth and there were no primates or conveniently-shaped rocks, I **still** wouldn't love you."

"You'd shag me, though."

"Watch it, Rosie," Severus warned. "The werewolf gets bitchy if someone intrudes on his territory."

Rosmerta narrowed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, folding her arms in a manner only very pissed-off, menstrual women can get right. "I remember when my daddy brought this place. I was seventeen when I started working here and you were second years. I remember you so well. You used to be such sweet boys. Whatever happened?"

"A lifetime of researching and fighting the Dark Arts," Remus said seriously. "I've been up against Dementors, Lethifolds and rabid manticores, but let me tell you this -- in my experience, none of them are as dangerous or unpleasant as a menstruating woman." He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. It happened, and Severus passed him his handkerchief. "Cheers, Sev," Remus said as he wiped the Butterbeer off his face.

"Rosie, darling, listen," Severus said. "We know you feel like shit right now. You **look** like it. In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen you look as rough as you do ri--"

"RIGHT!" Rosmerta bellowed. She opened the hatch in the bar, purposely dropping it on Sirius' fingers, and grabbed Severus by his large nose. Sirius and Remus howled with laughter (although in Sirius case, a good part of the howling was due to pain) as she dragged him over to the door and gave him a good kick in the arse to propel him out.

"Go Rosie, go Rosie!" they chanted until she stomped back on her glittery kitten heels and grasped their ears, tugging and twisting until they yelled in agony and had no choice but to follow her. She dumped them unceremoniously in the gutter beside Severus and dusted her hands off, before going back into the pub and slamming the door on them.

"What d'you think?" Severus asked.

The other two pondered the scene for a moment. "Angrier than last month and the one before, but not quite as furious as the one before that," Remus said finally.

"Dammit, we're losing our touch!" Sirius growled. "It's all down to not having adequate planning, gents. We **must** do better next month."

All three nodded decisively. Sirius took a list out of his pocket and ticked off the top name. "Next," he said, "Sally Gladrags!"

"Nah, she had hers last week," Remus said. "I know because she tried to cut my knob off with her dressmaking scissors after I charmed her into thinking she'd bled on her robes."

Severus chortled and looked at the list. "Zonko's wife won't be on for another week. But Zoey and Cyd from Honeydukes are both on at the same time, and that should be round about now."

Remus' eyes lit up. "Ooh, goodie!" he said gleefully. "What do you think they'd say if I asked for fresh bloodpops?

That headed off for the sweet shop, giggling like schoolgirls and revelling in their supremacy.

~+~

The girls decided to follow the spell to the letter rather than adapting it, and for that they needed a girl from each Hogwarts house. Pansy conscripted her periodic (heehee!) girlfriend Padma, and Ginny ran to fetch Hannah Abbott. Ginny had overheard a conversation that took place at breakfast on the Hufflepuff table, and, considering its content, she expected that Hannah would agree right away. Sure enough, she did.

"Right-o," Hermione said, consulting the book. She drew two large circles on the stone floor with her wand, leaving tracks of bluish light. She drew an arrow protruding from the edge of one circle, and a cross from another.

"What do we do now?" Hannah asked eagerly. "What does it say?"

The instructions, although written in fading brown ink, were reasonably clear. Hermione read them out loud.

"Sweet Hufflepuff, the girl with hair

That's long and flowing, soft and fair,

Now take your place upon the cross.

Prepare to show the men who's boss!"

Pansy giggled. "These sixteenth century chicks were cool. I wonder what other spells they've written?"

"We'll look later," Hermione said. She waited for Hannah to take her position at the end of one leg of the cross. "Now...

"Ravenclaw with hair like jet,

We know you're not despairing yet.

All men will pay, oui, tout le monde,

When you stand up beside the blonde."

"Really stretching themselves for rhymes here, aren't they?" Ginny said, sounding amused as Padma chose another point of the cross to stand on.

"Brown-haired, hot-head girl of Slytherin,

Are you sick of your friends' blithering?

Of course you are! And we are too.

Now right the wrongs and join the two."

Shaking with laughter at the dodgy rhymes, Pansy took her place.

"Now you, Ginn," Hermione said.

"What about **you**?"

"The spell only needs four, and we'd better stick with the physical descriptions if we want it to be successful. You're red-haired like the Gryff in the verse."

"Okay. What does the poem say, then?"

"Gryffindor, complete this game.

The others need your head of flame

To join with them and make it four.

Abuse and taunts will be no more!"

As soon as Ginny stepped onto the last remaining leg of the cross, the light turned blood red. McGonagall extinguished all the candles quickly, and Hermione charmed a large black throw from the sofa to cover the window, plunging them into darkness. The only light was the eerie redness of the circle with the cross, and the cold blue of the circle with the arrow.

"Now what?" Padma whispered.

"Lumos," McGonagall muttered, so she could see the book. "Well, girls," she explained after another quick read-through, "the spell works through the strength of willpower. The circles represent male and female, and the red represents menstruation. All you need to do is concentrate hard, and force the red light into the other circle."

"Oh!" Pansy said suddenly. "I've just thought of something! If we manage it, does that mean those of us who are suffering right now...?"

"Yes," McGonagall said with a smile, and Hermione and Pansy cheered. "But," the Professor continued, "we'll only do it for twenty-four hours. Keeping it up for much longer would, I imagine, begin to play havoc with your bodies. You might never menstruate again."

"And that's a bad thing **how**?" Hannah asked.

"Well, I suppose it isn't," Hermione said hesitantly, "but that'd mean no babies. If we give the lads our periods, I bet they'd be able to get pregnant somehow, and how damn scary would **that** be?"

The girls shuddered. "All right, twenty-four hours it is," Padma said quickly. "Let's go."

Nothing happened for a while... then a tiny flicker of red jumped over the inch-wide gap between the two circles. More followed, a little trickle of a time... then, as if a damn had burst, a great glut of redness like blood from a sliced artery spewed over into the male circle.

"Stop!" Hermione yelled. The girls opened their eyes and slumped on the floor, thoroughly exhausted.

"Did we do it?" Ginny asked. Hermione just pointed at the blue-white light beneath Ginny's prone body. "Bloody brilliant," she said sleepily.

~+~

"A black eye each, two bloody noses between us, and three facefuls of drink," Severus said happily. "A good day's work, gents."

Sirius and Remus cackled like hags. "Can't wait for next week," Remus said. "Mrs Zonko's always a good laugh. You never know what she's going to do when you piss her off. I got itching powder in my boxers last time."

"Nothing so spectacular about that," Severus said with a little sneer. "That's first-year stuff."

"Yeah," Sirius chuckled, "but not **this**! Brought him out in Snitch-sized welts all over, it was bloody amazing!"

"Uh-huh," Severus said. "Too much information, thanks. Now, I'm off to brew potions and terrorise some cringing Gryffindors. You coming?"

The other two exchanged a glance. "No," Remus said, "but we will be soon."

"Yes, there's that 'too much information' thing again," Severus muttered. "See you at dinner."

He strode off down the corridor, and Sirius dragged Remus to their bedroom

~+~

"Nah, mate... too predictable." Ron said. "We've already done that once today."

Seamus crossed 'Do The Dance' off his list.

"We could hide her tampons. I'm sure that'd go down well," Neville supplied helpfully. The others cackled, and slapped Neville on the back in congratulations.

"Nice one!" Dean said admiringly. Neville glowed with pride.

"Back in a sec, lads, I need a piss," Harry said. He walked off towards the bathroom door in the corner of the dormitory, scratching his balls and feeling very manly.

"How about..." Ron started, but he was interrupted by a very girlish scream coming from the bathroom.

"Harry?" Seamus called. There was no answer. "Ooh, crap," he muttered, before all four dashed off to fight whatever Dark beast was currently torturing and devouring their friend.

"Harry!" Ron yelled as they all stumbled through the door... then stopped dead in their tracks when they saw him sitting on the bench opposite the shower stalls, cupping his hands over his crotch and looking very uncomfortable indeed.

"What is it?" Dean asked. Harry just blushed and looked away.

"Have you got crabs or something?" Neville asked. Seamus elbowed him hard.

"Be sensitive, Longbottom!"

Ron went and sat beside his friend. "Something's wrong," he said quietly. "Tell me what it is."

"I... can't," Harry choked. Ron began to feel sort of frightened.

"Will you give us a minute?" he asked the others. They went back into the dorm reluctantly, and Ron turned back to Harry. "Tell me. If you don't, then I'm gonna pull your trousers down and have a good look, and neither of us want that, right?"

"I'm bleeding!" Harry blurted out.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "What, from your knob?" Harry nodded miserably. "From, like, cuts or... or blisters or something. Or actually **from** it?"

"From it. My piss was crimson," Harry mumbled. "With... ugh. With sort of clot things. Hurts like hell."

"Bugger," Ron breathed. "Can I have a look?"

"No you fucking can't, you pervy sicko!"

"Strictly for research purposes! I want to see if it's something serious."

"You tit! Of course it's something bloody serious!"

"Harry! Will you just let me look? It's nothing I haven't seen before. You're not the only guy in school with a dick, you know."

Harry moved his hands reluctantly. He was wearing black jeans so the red wasn't visible, but Ron could see a small wet patch glinting in the light coming through the high windows. "Bugger," he muttered again. "Um... all right, mate, don't panic. Get your kecks off."

"Ron, please..." Harry protested weakly.

"Okay, we'll try it my way," Ron said, and he unzipped Harry's jeans, pulling the flaps down to the sides. Harry's white boxers were drenched in blood, and Ron unbuttoned them, grimacing, so he could get a good look at the problem area.

"You really don't want to look at it..."

"HOLY HELL!" Ron bellowed.

The other boys heard him and panicked. They burst back in, and found Ron on his knees between Harry's legs with Harry's cock in his hand.

"What the **fuck** is going on?" Dean demanded.

"It looks to me like Ron's tossing Harry off," Seamus, always the observant one, said.

"No I'm not!" Ron shouted. "I'm trying to make sure The Boy Who Lived won't have to change his title. Look at this!" He tugged Harry's cock, as if to draw their attention to it. "Guys! Just **look** at it! Harry's not well."

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me," Harry said through gritted teeth. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to overcome the growing pain in his abdomen as well as the growing arousal Ron's hand was creating. Ron let go hastily.

"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey, Harry," Neville said nervously. "That doesn't look healthy."

Harry nodded and began to refasten his jeans, but he got an eyeful more than he bargained for when Ron stood up. The pale blue denim around Ron's crotch area was stained purple. It didn't take a genius to work out what had created the patch.

"Ron," Harry said in a trembling voice. "May I please have a look at your willy?"

" **Excuse** me?!"

Harry ignored him and pressed his fingers hard against the stain.

Ron jumped back in surprise, falling to the floor on top of Seamus. "What the hell are you **doing**?" Ron yelled.

Harry showed him the red on his fingers, then all five peered at Ron's crotch. Then Seamus peered at his own.

"It's a fucking epidemic!" he yelled. He scrambled to his feet and began jumping about the bathroom in agony. "JAY-sus! It hurts, ohgod, it hurts! Look!" he shouted, thrusting his pelvis towards Harry's face. "Look at me, Harry! What is it?"

"Seamus, stop it!" Harry yelled. "Calm down! Let's go to the hospital wing. You, Ron, and me. We'll be fine, we've had worse than this before." He bit his lip, not sure whether that was true. The burning ache in his abdomen really was excruciating.

"Ohh, no," Neville moaned suddenly. He began rubbing the lower part of his chubby body. "It hurts. I think I've got it too." He winced his way into a toilet cubicle. After a few seconds, he yelled in horror. "Oh, buggering hell!" he cried. "I have! I'm bleeding!"

"And me," Dean confirmed, as a dark patch began spreading over his khakis.

The boys looked at each other in abject terror for another minute or so, before hobbling off as fast as possible in the direction of the hospital wing.

~+~

Remus rocked his hips hard against Sirius', relishing the delicious sensation of being filled by Sirius' somewhat considerable length. Somewhere in the ever-narrowing part of his mind that was not overcome by passion, he made a mental note to buy some more of the new lubricant they were using. It was warm and slippery and very wet... and it felt exquisite.

He dug his teeth into Sirius' shoulder and bit down gently to mask his cries, then reached his hands down and grabbed hold of Sirius' backside, dragging him up and in deeper. He lost himself in the sweaty, writhing ecstasy and was just on the brink of spilling his release all over their stomachs when Sirius yelled out.

"ARGH! Fuck!"

Remus frowned, confused. That wasn't a passionate, orgasmic sort of 'argh, fuck', that was a revolted and terrified 'argh, fuck'. "Sirius? What?"

"ARGH!" Sirius yelled again. He pulled himself out of Remus quickly and stared at him with bulging wide eyes. "You're bleeding! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"What do you mean I'm bleeding?!"

"You're **bleeding**! Out your arse!"

"WHAT?!"

Sirius touched his fingers down there and held them up in front of Remus' face. They were red and dripping, and Remus suddenly felt incredibly nauseous... nevertheless, he was on the very brink of orgasm, the point of no return. The **wantyounow** feeling overshadowed even his sudden terror, and he dragged Sirius' hands back to him.

"Don't stop," he begged, and Sirius gave his erection a few quick, half-hearted tugs. The tension mounted, then Remus cried out loudly as it released in a pink gush over Sirius' hand, shooting a good few feet in the air before coming back to land on Remus' stomach.

Hang on...

Pink?

"ARGH! FUCK!" Remus yelled. He struggled not to faint in shock as he and a speechless Sirius peered at the unnatural mess. Blood and semen were swirled together like raspberry ripple ice cream, coating his body with congealing gunk.

"Have you given me syphilis, you polygamous scum?" Remus hissed. Sirius' eyes widened and he pouted, sticking his lower lip out petulantly like a spoiled child.

"No I have not! There's never been anyone else, you know that."

"But... Sirius, I'm **bleeding**! What happened?"

"I don't know. It felt funny," Sirius explained, wiping his fingers on the sheets. "I didn't think I'd, you know, used that much lube. So I looked, and you're haemorrhaging!"

"What, front **and** back?" Remus touched the blood pooling between his legs and caught a glimpse of Sirius' incredibly wilted cock. "ARGH! Fuck! I'm not bleeding out my arse, **you're** bleeding out your willy!"

"Shit!" Sirius howled. He grabbed onto it and covered the end with his thumb. "This is **not** normal! We have to see Poppy." He stood up, grimacing as the blood began to seep through his cupped hands. "Does yours hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hu... uuuurt! Ow! Ah, **god**! Ow!" Remus' tone changed mid-sentence and he began writhing about in pain. "It hurts! I'm dying! Ow, ow, **ooowwwwwwww**!"

The transition from uneasiness and fear to debilitating pain had happened in the blink of an eye. Remus clutched at his abdomen and howled. Sirius' eyes looked as though they were going to fall out of his head. He dragged some trousers on quickly and wrapped Remus in a sheet, then picked him up (gently, trying not to make him cry any louder) and took him down the corridor to the hospital wing.

But halfway there, he felt an odd sort of twinge low down in his own abdomen. "Moony?" he said cautiously, slowing his pace. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywheeeere!" Remus wailed.

"Where specifically?"

"My tummy." Remus stuck a comforting thumb in his mouth like a baby. "And my back."

Sirius sped up again and deposited Remus on a bed before falling onto the next one.

"What is it?" Madam Pomfrey asked, hurrying over and gingerly touching the bloodied sheet around an otherwise naked Professor Lupin.

"I have internal bleeding, it hurts so bad, help me!" he cried.

Sirius looked decidedly uncomfortable, and began rubbing his own stomach with both hands. "I think I've got it too," he grimaced. "But it's not so ba... OWW!"

Madam Pomfrey chuckled to herself. "Now, boys, come on," she said sternly. "Do stop wasting my time."

Sirius, deep in the throes of agony from his sudden menstrual cramps, looked at her in horror. "What?"

Hiding just inside the door of Madam Pomfrey's private rooms, McGonagall and the five students bit their lips hard and clapped their hands over their mouths. Nevertheless, none of them could help making muffled, choked sounds of mirth. This was going to be so much fun.

~+~

It **was** fun. It was the most fun they could remember having in a damn long time.

They'd updated Madam Pomfrey as soon as the spell had been cast, and she locked all the painkilling potions up in her drugs cabinet. "They can suffer," she said with a curt nod, before giving the conspirators permission to hide in her office and watch the proceedings.

The first to come in were Professors Black and Lupin, who both taught Defence. They were fantastic teachers but notorious pranksters, so the girls felt rather proud and superior that they'd got one over them.

"I sort of feel sorry for them," Hannah whispered. She stared at them anxiously through the crack in the door. "It's not very nice..."

"Oh, come off it!" Pansy said scornfully.

"Yeah," Hermione added, "they deserve it. They're terrible about stuff like that. Sirius... I mean, Professor Black, he just takes it as some huge joke. And Professor Lupin won't take it seriously because he says he has it much worse."

"Well, he **does** , I suppose," Padma pointed out.

"Yeah," Ginny said, "but that doesn't mean he has to side with Sirius and ridicule us. We don't poke fun at his lycanthropy, do we? It's a horrible, serious thing. He should at least **try** and respect women, the way we respect him."

Madam Pomfrey's voice came through the door. "Now, boys, come on. Do stop wasting my time." The girls snorted their giggles out into their hands, and Pansy looked through at the teachers.

"Why is Lupin naked?" she asked. "And Black's only wearing trousers."

"Didn't you know they're together?" Ginny asked.

"Get out!"

"No, they are," Hermione said. Her eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. "They must have been shagging when one of them realised what was happening."

Pansy had to run over to the other side of the room to stop her laughter giving their position away. When she'd sobered enough to come back she was literally crying with laughter. "You know what this means?" she asked. The others shook their heads. "I didn't even think about it before, but this means no sex!"

"Yes!" Hannah said, clapping her hands delightedly. "We can badger them for oral sex and stuff the way they do to us, but of course they won't get any!"

The other four looked at each other uncertainly. "Might be worth turning straight for the next twenty-four hours, girls," Pansy suggested. "Just to make the most of it."

"We don't have to **do** anything," Hermione said. "We can just... I don't know. Dress up all sexy and string them along."

"Or," Ginny tried, looking mischievous, "We don't even have to pretend to be straight. We can just snog and stuff right in front of them, and get them all worked up. Play on their dumb hormones a bit. They'll be ready to explode by tomorrow."

And so began the event that would be chronicled in Hogwarts history books for centuries to come...

The Bloody Riot.

~END~


	2. Interlude

~Interlude: The Origin of Blood~  
Once upon a time there was an omnipotent being called God, and he lived in the empty nothingness.   
God mooched around glumly in the empty nothingness for a few millenia, and then he remembered that one of the perks of the Lord High Deity job is the ability to create whatever the heck you like. So, one day he woke up and decided to create stars and planets and comets and stuff. He picked a pretty-looking planet called Earth, and moved into a nice big house in Kent. He settled down for a life of luxury.   
God had everything... or so it seemed. He was young and handsome, and the aforementioned omnipotence meant that he could create as many PlayStations and X-Boxes as he wanted, and play away to his little heart\\\\\\\\\\\'s content.   
But God got lonely. Lonely, and so fucking bored of those bloody ridiculous games.   
He began looking around for other things to do.   
Before long, he\\\\\\\\\\\'d worked out that playing with his own willy was a much more fun way to spend the days and nights.   
God masturbated for years without one break for food or sleep.   
Then his wrist started aching, and he stopped.   
\\\\\\\\\\\"I know,\\\\\\\\\\\" he said to himself, \\\\\\\\\\\"I\\\\\\\\\\\'ll create another person to do all this work for me.\\\\\\\\\\\"   
First of all, God created a sheep. Nothing more will be said of this section of the story, except that things didn\\\\\\\\\\\'t work out, and the sheep was banished to Wales.   
Then God created a man. This didn\\\\\\\\\\\'t work out either, because he\\\\\\\\\\\'d created the man in in his own image, and so the man was much more interested in getting himself off than in his partner\\\\\\\\\\\'s pleasure.   
Finally, God created a woman. She was beautiful and sweet and sexy, and perfect.   
God was very happy for a while. The woman pleased him in every way she could, and everything was spiffy-cool. But one night the Trouser-Serpent came out to play, and the woman said, \\\\\\\\\\\"I don\\\\\\\\\\\'t want to.\\\\\\\\\\\"   
\\\\\\\\\\\"Pardon me?\\\\\\\\\\\" God said. \\\\\\\\\\\"I\\\\\\\\\\\'m God.\\\\\\\\\\\"   
\\\\\\\\\\\"And I have a headache,\\\\\\\\\\\" said the woman, before turning right around and going to sleep on the sofa.   
God was Very Very Angry Indeed, but he agreed to let her have one night off, as long as she promised to do Very Naughty Things to him the next night, as usual.   
The next night, he lay waiting in the bedroom for hours, getting more and more excited with each passing nanosecond. The anticipation was killing him. What could the beautiful woman be doing? Perhaps she was out buying cherry-flavoured condoms, or chocolate body paint, or sexy lingerie, or handcuffs?!   
It was morning before he realised that she was, in fact, not coming at all.   
\\\\\\\\\\\"Where were you last night?\\\\\\\\\\\" God asked at breakfast.   
\\\\\\\\\\\"Sorry,\\\\\\\\\\\" said the beautiful woman. \\\\\\\\\\\"I was reading my magazine, I fell asleep.\\\\\\\\\\\"   
One last chance, God said to himself furiously.   
The beautiful woman blew it. Or rather, she didn\\\\\\\\\\\'t blow it, and that made God so angry flames came out his ears.   
\\\\\\\\\\\"YOU\\\\\\\\\\\'VE BLOWN YOUR LAST CHANCE, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!\\\\\\\\\\\" he roared.   
She tried to run away, but he caught her and cast an awful spell. Or whatever gods do.   
God cursed the beautiful woman with the most horrific, revolting, awful, agonizing curse there was. He charmed a magical red-hot cheesegrater to appear in her womb every now and then, to remind her that men are the Painless And Superior Half Of The Species, and to make sure she sometimes felt as sexually-frustrated as he did.   
And that is why woman bleed for three months every year.   
That is why men are evil scum who don\\\\\\\\\\\'t give a damn about anything but their own disgusting ejaculations.   
That is why we girlies should run away together and live in big lesbian communes where everyone understands That Time Of The Month and no one expects sex during it.   
...and this is yet more proof that I\\\\\\\\\\\'m going directly to hell.   
~END~


End file.
